Ah Marshall, now I understand the obsession with Mount Robson. It is magnificent.    I was up early 'cause I wanted to see the mountain clear and clean.   As I went up Highway 16 from Jasper I kept stopping and taking pictures of big mountains with snow, so as not to miss it.   But I did. One doesn't see it until one rounds the corner into the Visitor Center, and there it sits in all its glory.   It is so massive, it takes guts just to attempt to climb it, much less make it to the topmost ridge.

Today's surprise was in McBride, a small town 200 km west of Jasper . It was time for a mid morning snack, and I turned in to town and noticed that everyone was sitting along the main drag, waving to me as I drove down...   wait, something has got to be wrong here. You know me. I am never the subject of a parade.   Then I turned around I saw them, all lined up and ready to come in. Very reminiscent of July 4 in Monterey VA. Everyone knows everyone else, sweets being thrown to the crowd, tractors the main feature of the show, lovely old cars and of course, beautiful horses.  

I drove on another few kilometers, and then I was reminded that I was in Canada.   They were sealing the road, and the traffic only travels one way through the work area. Those traveling in the opposite direction get to wait. As I approached the long line (which included a trailer with a house on top) the orange suited construction guy managing the Stop sign motioned me to the front. So, I passed all the stopped cars, took my place at the head of the line (not without a little trepidation) and started chatting to the construction man . Nice guy. First Nation origins, lived on a reservation which I will pass along the way. When all of a sudden this big burly bald headed dude in a black T shirt sticks his face in front of mine: "You got an emergency pal?"  he yells. "You are in Canada now! Don't think you can just jump the line like that! We respect the rules here!"   I was a little taken aback,
  as I was feeling guilty anyway, but I tried to reason with him, telling him I had been told to come to the front.   "Don't let it happen again ! You'll regret it !"  were his parting words, as the construction worker chuckled. "Yeah" he said, "We get that about once a day. Here in BC its totally normal to bring the motorcycles to the front of the line. Doesn't take any space, and saves them having to pass everyone afterwards..."   He made me feel less like I was going to be blown away in the next five minutes. Glad it wasn't Texas [no offense Carl and Jo ...].

Spent the day going down the Fraser valley (the most important river in BC) to Prince George, center of the wood industry with two lumber mills, then across a plateau of rich cattle country, to what they call the Lake District.    Mileage at 3,850 miles. One thousand to go.